


The Virus

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [104]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Death, Gen, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Supernatural Illnesses, True Alpha Scott McCall, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A virus leaks from the Nemeton, first affecting humans, killing some, then the supernatural. When Stiles gets sick, Scott will do anything he can to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Virus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo prompt: pandemics/epidemics. See the end for notes about who become werewolves.

The virus that leaked from the Nemeton went unnoticed at first. Humans got sick all the time and the symptoms were so similar to those of the current strain of influenza, that it passed for a serious case of the flu. People died, but, again, that wasn't unheard of.

No one realized it was stage one. It took nearly a month before the CDC plotted enough cases to realize that anyone whose temperature reached one hundred and three died within twenty four hours of heart failure. No one survived.

As the epidemic rapidly spread across the United States and then around the world, approximately one in ten humans caught the disease, and, of those, about ten percent died.

In Beacon Hills, Stiles put it together first, pinpointing the origination as the Nemeton which made it more than the regular flu. He was driven to figure it out as soon as his dad got sick, and when Melissa started providing him with the numbers, he reached the conclusion about the temperature a full week before the CDC--but no one was going to listen to a sixteen year old, so he didn't even try to convince anyone but Melissa.

If you didn't die, you recovered within a week. The virus was fast acting.

So, Stiles sat by his dad's side, taking his temperature every ten minutes, praying to a god he didn't believe in, not sleeping, barely eating.

In the early hours of the morning four days in, the Sheriff's temperature slipped over one hundred and three and, in tears, Stiles asked Scott to give him the bite. Scott didn't even protest, because even if the bite didn't take, the Sheriff was going to die. With Stiles holding his hand and Melissa monitoring his vital signs, the Sheriff agreed, his voice raspy, his eyes rheumy.

And Scott bit his shoulder.

Twenty four hours later, Stiles took his dad home, relieved that he was cured and now with a whole new set of worries. His dad was a werewolf.

Nearly three days later, as his dad was preparing for his first full moon, handling being a werewolf better than anyone including himself expected, Stiles got sick. One minute he was fine, the next he was nearly choking on phlegm, his temperature rising quickly.

His dad immediately took him to the hospital, their positions reversed, with the Sheriff now refusing to leave his son's side.

And that's when the second stage of the virus appeared.

Every supernatural being in Beacon Hills lost their abilities, effectively becoming human. As Deaton and the other emissaries around the globe frantically tried to come up with a solution, the effects slowly spread out from the Nemeton, flowing along the ley lines.

Stiles tried to help with the research, but the virus made him weak, hazed his mind, and he slept most of the time, getting more sick every hour.

And then his temperature went over one hundred and three.

Tears slipped down Melissa's cheeks as she called Scott. John Stilinski just stared into the glazed eyes of his son, shocked, unable to process his impending death.

Stiles tried to clench his fingers around his dad's, but all he could manage was a feeble squeeze, and a croaked out, "It's okay, dad."

"No. No, Stiles, it's...I can't."

His strong willed dad broke down sobbing and Melissa joined him, slumping down in the second chair next to him, her trembling hand reaching out to rest on Stiles' blanket-covered knee.

"Stupid Nemeton," Stiles muttered, eyes falling shut as the need to sleep dragged at him. "Knew it would be my death..."

As he fell asleep, probably never to awaken, Scott barreled into the room, panting hard, his hand fumbling for the inhaler he now needed again. His eyes blazed with emotion, but remained their normal--human--brown. He stumbled around the bed to Stiles' free side, dropping to his knees and grabbing his hand.

"No, this isn't happening. Not after everything we've survived." Starting to cry, he buried his face against his best friend's hip, and the vigil began. Over the next hour, the rest of the pack filtered in. Melissa surrendered her seat to Malia who just looked broken. The only thing she said was 'I wish I was a coyote again'.

The others knew she meant so she could run from this and never look back.

Stiles' temperature continued to rise, his heart started to slow, and he was put on oxygen to assist his ragged breathing.

John never moved, never spoke, just held Stiles' hand, feeling it grow colder as each hour passed.

Someone had fetched Scott a chair and he didn't leave Stiles' side either. The rest of the pack sprawled on the floor, talking quietly, crying sometimes. Melissa brought them food that none of them ate.

They all knew the vigil would be over soon.

In his sleep, Stiles whimpered, and Scott's hold on his hand tightened as he looked up, eyes rimmed with red, tears still flowing, but a determined look on his face.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm a True Alpha. That has to mean something," he muttered, then gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Strain immediately appeared on his face, his knuckles went white around Stiles' fingers.

"Scott?" Melissa asked, worried, but Derek stopped her from going to him, and the whole pack seemed to hold their collective breath.

After what seemed like an eternity, Scott's eyes flew open.

They blazed crimson.

John gasped in shock.

Shifting took more effort than it ever had, but after ten long minutes, Scott forced his wolf free and lunged for Stiles' exposed bicep.

"Ow!" Stiles awoke protesting and shaking in pain and fear, and Scott lifted his head, blood dripping from his fangs, tears of hope flooding down his face. "Gross, dude," Stiles mumbled as his eyes fell shut again.

Nervous laughter broke out, relief but now a new worry filled everyone in the room. John wiped away his tears and kissed his son's cheek, as Melissa hugged Scott.

"How?" she managed to ask.

When Scott shrugged, Derek provided the only logical explanation. "He's a True Alpha."

A new vigil began, but no one was really surprised when Stiles' temperature dropped and he awakened a few hours later with shining blue eyes.

"I am going to be the worst werewolf ever," he snorted, making everyone laugh, and his dad hug him tightly.

After a kiss from Malia and hugs from everyone else, even Derek, Stiles, free of the oxygen and most of the monitors, reclined against his pillow and said, "Okay, how to we apply whatever the Hell you did, Scottie, to the rest of the pack, and why am I not affected? Someone get me the latest research from Deaton, and where's my laptop, and how soon can I go home to my notes? I gotta add all this data..."

"And we wanted him to live, why?" Derek muttered, but there was a smirk on his face.

"Dude! You wound me."

Scott rolled his eyes, Kira giggled, and John rose, clapping his hands. "Okay, let's go get some food and let Stiles get some rest because we all know as soon as he's home, he's going to solve this."

"Thanks, dad, but I'm serious. Where's my laptop?" The pack headed out, Scott the last with one final squeeze of his hand. "Guys? Guys?!"

End

**Author's Note:**

> Scott saves the Sheriff and Stiles with the bite.


End file.
